Entangled
by pen 'n notebook
Summary: There's so much Rapunzel doesn't know, but she doesn't know that either until Flynn introduces her to the world outside her tower. Alternate Universe.


Rapunzel lives in a tower.

It's a lovely tower, she thinks, with a floor of warm red and orange stones laid carefully in circular patterns. There are 357 full pieces. Rapunzel knows because she counted six times, because she treads barefoot upon the smooth cool slabs all summer and winter. Mother has never given Rapunzel shoes. She will grow out of them too quickly, Mother says. Rapunzel has danced wildly across the center of the inlaid pattern spiraling outward, pushing against the walls Rapunzel painted herself. Rapunzel follows the colored stones as if they were a path, a trail, leading out of her tower to the garden below her window.

There is no path. Rapunzel never leaves the tower.

Mother built this tower. It is attached to a house that Mother lives. Some days Rapunzel smiles as she remembers Mother choose each chair and supplied the cupboards with sweet vegetables just for Rapunzel. The tower could have been built in the shape of a square, or missing an important piece like the thick wooden boards of the rafters, which she climbs without Mother knowing. The stones of the floor could have been blue, not red. Rapunzel often thinks about the differences, but she has never tried to paint the floor.

Mother likes the way the tower looks, and Rapunzel does too. In fact, Mother can tell her how beautiful it looks because she is visiting today!

Every three days the heavy lock on the door leading to Mother's home turns. Rapunzel has spent years trying to see Mother's house on the other side. It must be as lovely as her tower. But Mother shuts the door quickly and urges Rapunzel away if she wanders too close. Glimpses of a white hallway confuse Rapunzel because they are not the color she expected in Mother's house. Mother's favorite color is red. Her hallways should be red as well.

This morning the sun is shinning in through the tower's windows. Rapunzel must wear her dress today. Nakedness does not please Mother, who has entered the tower before while Rapunzel was unaware. No one ever sees her so she does not understand why clothes must be worn at all times. They are so awfully inconvenient. On and off. Wash and fold. Over and over. A massive oak tree blocks any outside view into the front window of the tower so Rapunzel is not afraid of being seen. Besides, getting dressed is difficult with her long hair.

Her golden hair is long, very long. Rapunzel can wrap it along the floor of her tower following the pattern of the stones, round and round and around until she gets dizzy. Today it must be brushed too, but Rapunzel brushes her hair everyday. Sometimes there is nothing else to do.

The dress Rapunzel chooses from the green wardrobe, painted with frocks one day she would like to sew, but not wear, is pink. She made it herself. The waist no longer slips over Rapunzel's hips easily. She has grown too big or the dress shrunk. The sleeves once reached her wrists, but now stretch across the middle of her forearm. And the hem no longer hides her ankles. The strings on the front of the bodice now tie in a smaller bow as her chest continues to rise and expand with each breath. The dress is no longer comfortable to wear. After Mother leaves Rapunzel will take it off like she always does.

Embroidery, along with painting, bring Rapunzel joy. She spent hours dotting the skirt with little pink, purple, and blue designs of her fancy. Swoops and curls run along the sleeves and hem of her skirt. While making a new, larger dress would be fun, Rapunzel has spent too much time on this dress to stop wearing it. Besides, the cloth was a gift from Mother. Mother likes that Rapunzel wears pink.

Rapunzel also owns a green dress and a white nightgown. These too remain in the wardrobe, untouched the past two years. Rapunzel fears they will no longer fit either.

The wetness in the warm summer air makes Rapunzel's hair unruly. A brush straightens the mess a little. She wants to tie her hair back, but Mother always frowns when a ribbon holds it away from her eyes. Mother said her hair should fall freely across her shoulders and down her back. Rapunzel moves in wide graceful motions across the tower to avoid knotting her hair. Like Mother, she is proud of her long golden hair.

Not knowing what time Mother will arrive, Rapunzel spends all morning completing her chores. Mother must be tending her garden now. Rapunzel often watches the plants out the window at the back of the tower. The view is clear, showing her trees that stretch outward as far as she can see. They are nearly as tall as Rapunzel's tower.

Mother's garden sits below the window in tidy rows fenced from the animals. Sadly, Mother prefers plants. While tasty, they are not as much fun to watch as animals. The garden grows tomatoes, rhubarb, strawberries, green beans, cabbage, raspberries, carrots, apples, herbs, and lettuce.

Maybe today Mother will take her to see the garden. The brown dirt looks soft and Rapunzel wants to feel it beneath her toes. She imagines it feels more like a blanket than the hard wooden beams of the rafters.

Within an hour the floor is swept and mopped. The daily ritual has created little dust, but Rapunzel follows Mother's instructions carefully. Rapunzel sings to pass the time. Mother loves hearing Rapunzel sing. Words flow into her mind and out her mouth as her voice echoes in the tall tower.

 _Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair_

 _It shines like the sun in the warm summer air_

 _Growing longer and stronger_

 _And thicker than wicker_

 _Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Mother will come_

 _After the tower is clean and the flowers are watered_

 _So get your chores done!_

Mother has still not arrived, but perhaps the morning is early. The old clock hanging beside her shelves holding dishes points the big arrow at two and the little arrow at eight. Yes. Rapunzel knows the clock is always wrong, but it is still too early for Mother.

The wooden staircase spiraling around her tower, like the stones, has been worn smooth over the years. Rapunzel swiftly leaps up each step to tidy her bed on the second level. Like everything else in the tower, her bed is lovely too. Curtains cover the big wooden frame, letting her nap through even the brightest day. The blankets have been dyed a deep purple. Rapunzel is pleased with their appearance.

Carefully, Rapunzel folds her quilt and places it atop the bed. It is old and worn, but dearly loved. She built it out of leftover fabric scraps to not be wasteful. Many of the first pieces she sewed have crooked, uneven stitches because she made them when she was young. It is not finished. More pieces can always be added. The quilt carries three strips from the pink dress she wears now, and the five from green one too. All of the blanket's corners are neatly tucked in for now, but later, Rapunzel will flop on her bed, making a mess of her work as she lays drawing the pictures in her books.

Rapunzel finishes the chores. Ashes collected from the fireplace sit in a pail beside the locked door to fertilize Mother's garden. She dusted the rafters and even straightened the candlewicks. Mother will be pleased when she learns. She is not here yet, but she will be. Soon. Rapunzel holds onto her hope, glancing nervously at the locked door.

It doesn't move. Rapunzel drifts around the tower.

There are many things she would like to do, paint the star patterns she had been charting, though this could only be done at night when there are stars. The mural along the stairs of herself watering flowers needs to be finished. The task would be delightful! She wants to embroider the strange animal she found on the wall into her quilt –– after all, it is a lovely shape –– bake hazelnut cookies, or knit slippers to protect her feet from the cold stone floor in the early mornings.

These are projects that will take time. Rapunzel does not want to be interrupted.

Instead Rapunzel picks up the red bound book from the shelf of her bedroom. The words mean nothing to her. Mother will not teach her their meaning, so Rapunzel no longer asks, for it upsets Mother so badly. Mother leaves early if she feels upset. Then Rapunzel will have no one to talk with for three more long days.

She looks at the illustrations. It is a book on animals. Rapunzel cannot name all of them. She has never seen many of them. The letters remain as unfamiliar as the pictures. She makes up her own names: kazzits, and poblors, sikes, and harenings.

Rapunzel makes up stories each of their lives. She imagines the dainty homes where the animals live and thinks of their favorite foods. They all keep together in company, telling each other stories late into the night. Her imagination keeps her occupied for hours with the exciting game.

Pascal keeps Rapunzel company while Mother is away. He is a real animal, though Rapunzel doesn't know which kind. He stares at her with wide eyes and listens carefully to every word. She likes his colorful body and his slow gentle steps as if he has all the time in the world to share with Rapunzel in her tower as he walks across her shoulder.

Pascal is not here right now. Either he left to eat or hide, but Rapunzel believes he will return later. He always does. Mother does not like animals. It is better he left today. She does not know about Pascal.

In the middle of dreaming about the ordinary day of a wamp, a feathered flying creature, Rapunzel is shaken from her thoughts by the lock's familiar click. It is Mother!

Mother closes the door quickly and relocks it after she enters. Her eyes search around the tower for Rapunzel. Her eyes seem sad Rapunzel was not waiting beside the door to greet her. Next time Rapunzel vows to be there for Mother when the door opens.

Mother wears a soft red dress that Rapunzel would like to also wear one day when she is old enough. Mother says she is much too young to wear red. Pink is her color. Unlike Rapunzel's hair, Mother's is thick, curly, dark, and short. Rapunzel wishes she could run her fingers through it to feel each curl, but Mother does not want her hair to become messy. Her hands are knobbled and stained from working outside in the garden. But Rapunzel wants to hold them very much, for they are Mother's and they are perfect.

"I've had a very busy morning. Rapunzel, make some tea and sing for me, would you darling?"

Of course.

Mother sits on a cozy orange armchair. Dutifully, Rapunzel fetches water to boil from the spout at the sink and coaxes a flame beneath the stove. As she works, she sings, wiping the sweat from her brow. It is not the song Mother wants to hear. That special song will come later.

When the tea is served, Mother drinks the hot liquid slowly, but Rapunzel cannot stomach the heat. Already the warm, damp air leaves sprinkles of sweat on her skin. Her dress is hot and tight, but Mother is here at last so Rapunzel will not complain. She sits on a small footstool beside Mother's chair.

Mother tells Rapunzel all about the garden below the tower. The vegetables are young, but one day they will be large enough to eat. Bean sprouts shoot up through the soil and twist around the wire fence. Lettuce is Mother's favorite plant. Already it can be picked and eaten. Mother is overjoyed.

Mother asks how Rapunzel has spent her time. Rapunzel happily rattles off her lists of tasks, and crafts that have kept her occupied, forgetting the mention the slippers she intends to make. Mother would not like that Rapunzel tries to cover her feet.

"My little flower." Mother murmurs stroking Rapunzel's long hair. Rapunzel warms in the praise. She has said good things to make Mother proud.

"Have you, brought anything?" Rapunzel asks timidly. She does not want to be rude.

"Not today." Mother sounds weary again. The sound makes Rapunzel feel sad inside. "You have more than enough food and paints until my next visit. "Is there something you need, my pet?

Rapunzel pauses to think, but she is too nervous and speaks quickly.

"I was wondering, perhaps," she starts, growing bolder, "if I could have more cloth to make a new dress."

"Another?" Mother's lips draw tight together in disappointment. "But I just gave you cloth. This dress is lovely. You don't like it Rapunzel?" Mother's eyes narrow as they search for an answer.

Rapunzel does not want Mother to think she is ungrateful. "I like it." She quickly agrees. Rapunzel looks shyly at her bare ankles and her feet that have never touched dirt outside the tower. " But I've grown." She murmurs.

Mother grabs a handful of the skirt to examine if they are talking about the same dress.

"Nonsense! It looks beautiful on you." Now anger fills Mother's voice. It seeps through the honey-sweet words warning Rapunzel to say no more.

Rapunzel obeys.

"Bring me a brush. Have you been taking care of your hair?"

"Yes, Mother." Rapunzel replies. The brush is nearby on a little table just for when Mother arrives.

Mother brushes Rapunzel's hair as she sings.

" _Flower gleam and glow._

 _Let you power shine._

 _Make the clock reverse._

 _Bring back what once was mine._

 _What once was mine."_

"Beautiful, Rapunzel," Mother coos, stroking the golden strands that flow down her daughter's back. "Sing for me more, won't you?"

An hour passes. Rapunzel sings many songs that Mother taught her about little grey field mice dancing among the wheat, strawberry blossoms during a spring rain, and songs about Mother herself.

Rapunzel has pleased Mother again.

When the heavy iron door lock clicks as Mother leaves, Rapunzel is left standing alone in her empty tower with a dry mouth. A drink of cool water refreshes her parched throat, and Rapunzel wonders if perhaps she is a plant. Her hair grows long like the wild vines climbing the outer walls of her tower. She appreciates a good drink of water as much as a flower. No wonder Mother loves her.

Outside, the sun has shifted enough to cast short shadows through another window. The light remains bright enough to continue painting the mural along the staircase.

Gleefully, Rapunzel sheds her dress and fetches her box of paints, stored neatly underneath the window. It holds seven colors, each Mother made especially for her. Green, red, white, blue, black, and Rapunzel's favorites, yellow and violet. Those colors are not boring, but Rapunzel enjoys mixing them together to create new colors. New pinks, blues, oranges, and greens make the walls even more lovely.

She loves feeling the colors on her bare body. They each feel different. Red burns as the paint dries on her arm. The cool dampness of the green and blue are what she images the grass and sky to feel like. One day Rapunzel will touch them and find out. Violet warms her fingers. Rapunzel likes the splatter of colors across her arms, stomach, and legs.

Mother would be horrified if she knew Rapunzel painted herself. However, Mother cannot be upset. Not a drop of paint touch her golden hair as it drags across the tower floor. Bath water washes away the paint before it falls in little flakes from Rapunzel's skin. Mother has no reason to be angry if she ever found out.

Painting the details of each flower petal and leaf takes hours of Rapunzel's time. She does not mind. After all, she now has three days to fill before Mother comes again.

The low orange sun outside the tower reminds Rapunzel to eat. Sometimes she is so busy that she forgets! From the cabinets she pulls a green pepper and two carrots. They taste fresh and crisp. Rapunzel feels no desire to cook a full meal this evening, though she is quite good at cooking. For a real treat Rapunzel slices bread and spreads butter with a hint of cinnamon sugar. It is delicious.

Her meal is short. Pascal appears while she crunches on the carrots. Gently, Rapunzel scoops him into her hands before placing the animal on her shoulder. He does not mind the ride.

Outside, the massive oak tree in front of the window shakes, startling Rapunzel as she eats. Branches rattle violently. She has heard this sound before. During storms the wind blows strong enough to bend the tree, but not her tower. When Rapunzel was little, she hid under the covers during storms wishing Mother would hold her tight. She feared her tower too would be blown away.

Rapunzel cannot feel the wind blow her long golden hair right now, but the tree continues to shake, leaves clashing together high and higher up the trunk. Oh no! Mother warned her of the danger lurking outside Rapunzel's tower. Now it has finally come. Stories of animal beasts wanting to eat the meat off Rapunzel's bones fly through her mind. She thought if she remained thin the monsters would leave her alone.

Rapunzel's heart races in fear. Or it could be something far worse. Mother told Rapunzel dark tales about the ruffians who wanted to steal Rapunzel or cut her long precious hair. Rapunzel gasps in horror. No! Mother built this tower to keep her safe from men with long pointy teeth.

If they touched her, mother promised, they would leave finger shaped bruises in her skin. They would make Rapunzel hurt and scream.

That cannot happen.

Rapunzel scrambles from the kitchen into the shelter of the dark pantry that holds her pans and food. The closed thick red curtains will hide her. Rapunzel knows every stone and floorboard in the tower. Ruffians cannot possibly find her when she does not want to be found. If only Mother were still here to protect her.

In the small closet Rapunzel's breath echoes. They will hear it and catch her. Rapunzel quiets herself as she peers between the slit of fabric against the wall.

"What the …?" A deep voice wonders, deeper than Mother's voice or any Rapunzel has ever heard. "Hello?" It asks, "Hello? Anyone?"

Rapunzel does not answer.

She watches silently as the ruffian-thug walks across the warm red stones her bare feet tread every day.

Searching the tower, the ruffian-thug opens the cupboard doors, shutting them quickly when he does not find Rapunzel. He pauses to trace his fingers against Rapunzel's murals before searching again. Soon the ruffian wanders upstairs.

Rapunzel must stop him before he catches her.

In the darkness her left hand reaches back and closes around an object, the handle of a heavy iron skillet. Yes. It will do. Rapunzel can think of no other way to defend herself. The knives lay in a drawer beside the sink basin, too far away while the ruffian-thug looms in her tower.

Hefting the pan in her stronger right hand, Rapunzel creeps out from behind the pantry's curtain with Pascal atop her shoulder. His stillness keeps her calm, brave, when right now Rapunzel wants to cry in fear.

Nakedness does not help. Rapunzel wishes for a dress to hide behind, no matter how tight around her chest or short at her ankles.

A deep breath does nothing to slow her racing heart.

Rapunzel can protect herself. She thinks of how proud Mother will be during her next visit.

Her heart continues to beat wildly as she waits crouched at the bottom of the stairs. When the ruffian-thug reaches the last step, Rapunzel stands and swings the frying pan with all her strength, but he ducks and grabs her wrist so she cannot swing again.

Rapunzel's green eyes widen in shock to meet his. They are the color of cake batter, round and equally surprised. Rapunzel freezes at the sight. She cannot wrap her mind around the person before her.

Though he is a ruffian-thug, he is also a man. Rapunzel has never seen a man before. Descriptions of men fill Mother's stories, but none compare to the figure in front of her.

He is large, larger than Rapunzel with short hair –– too short to need daily brushing or string to hold it away from his eyes. Clothes cover his body, but none like Rapunzel has ever seen. His hand holding her feels large and firm. She does not like being restrained.

Rapunzel squeaks in terror, trying to pull away. The man lets her go.

Without looking back, Rapunzel turns and runs to the safely of the pantry.

No. No! NO! Now the ruffian-thug has seen Rapunzel. He will hurt her like Mother warned.

To her surprise, he does not follow. Instead he speaks.

"Oh my god! I'm … I'm so sorry. I didn't know anyone was here," He rushes as Rapunzel hugs herself tightly in the middle of the pantry. "Please don't call the Guard. I only climbed the tower because I needed somewhere to hide, just for a little while. I'm not here to hurt you. You can get dressed. I'll just … stand over here and cover my eyes … yeah …"

Rapunzel expected words of anger, words with the power threaten and send fear to her very core.

Was this a trick to lure her out or was he … telling the truth?

She looked towards Pascal in the darkness. His steady gaze warned her to be careful, just in case. Her thoughts are interrupted.

"Hello?" the man says again. "My name is Flynn," he offers. "Flynn Rider, the one and only."

Rapunzel gathers the courage to peer behind the curtain. Good to his word, the man holds his hands over his face, waiting for her.

"You can't have my hair." Her voice is not steady, but she tries to be strong like Mother.

"Okay," he says, confused. "I don't want it."

"Really?" The word falls softly from her mouth. Everyone wants her hair. That's why Rapunzel stays in the safety of the tower.

"Would you just get dressed so I can talk to you?" he demands impatiently.

Rapunzel's cheeks flush. He does not like nakedness either. Quickly, Rapunzel slips from behind the curtain, trusting Pascal to watch the man as she darts to her wardrobe and gathers her pink dress for the second time that day.

"Normally I wouldn't mind, it's just not everyday you expect to stumble across a naked young woman in a tower, you know?" He laughs, but he does not sound happy. "Me? I don't undress 'till the second date, but hey, sometime you gotta roll with the punches. Done yet?"

No. She stretches the tight fabric across her hips, upward over her chest and begins to lace the front as the man peaks through his hands.

"Oh my god." For the first time he sees her golden hair trailing across the floor of the tower, though much of it still lays in the pantry. Rapunzel nervously clutches a strand on her left, holding it tight as if it were the handle of her frying pan.

Now that he knows the length of her beautiful hair will he try to take it?

"It's …" he falters, watching her. The expression in hiss eyes is somewhere between confusion and awe, "really, really long. No way. Is it real?"

Rapunzel starts to answer, but hesitates. Her voice is soft. "Are you going to take it?" Can he hear her fear?

He looks at her and Rapunzel cannot tell what he is thinking. "Of course not. Why would I want your hair? I need to lay low for a while. See, there's these guys and … you know what, it's a long story. I don't want to bore you with details."

A tiny flicker of hope grows inside Rapunzel's chest, small but bright as the candle flame in the dark. She wants to believe him. Every word from his mouth fascinates her with a curiosity she has never felt before.

"I'm Flynn," he offers again when she remains quiet. "What's your name?"

"Name?" She repeats, distracted by the way his mouth moves. His lips are beautiful. It is the only word to describe the ease of his speech that comes from them.

"Yeah. You know, what people call you?"

"Oh, Mother calls me Rapunzel. And this is Pascal," she adds as an after thought, pointing to the creature on her left shoulder. Pascal chirps proudly.

Flynn is not as excited. "Nice frog."

She hasn't heard that name before and tucks it into her memory. "He's my friend."

Flynn glances behind her seeing the paintings on the walls, pictures of Rapunzel's long sweeping hair surrounded by doodles of flowers and animals from the pictures in her books. He whistles and turns back to her.

"So, you live here?"

"Yes. It's my tower." She says proudly. No one but Mother has ever seen her tower, and Rapunzel feels a rush of excitement at the thought of showing it to this stranger.

She knows that Flynn cannot be a ruffian-thug because ruffian-thugs do not have names or manners to introduce themselves. Maybe he is more like her than he appears. His hair is short and his clothes are confusing, but Rapunzel understand the desire to hide from the outside world. Mother warned her that it is a dark and scary place. Flynn does not have his own tower to be safe, so Rapunzel can share hers.

"I see. You mind if I stick around a while? We're in the middle of nowhere. I can crash on the couch," He looked around the room, not finding what he was searching for. "If you have one."

Rapunzel knows Mother would not approve of Flynn being in Rapunzel's tower. Mother is smart and wise. She keeps them safe when there are so many dangerous things in the world. Rapunzel hesitates and bites her lip, thinking.

Mother would not be happy. Mother would be furious if she knew a stranger stood in her tower, but Flynn is not a stranger, nor a ruffian-thug. He is simply Flynn.

And he asked Rapunzel for help.

A lock of hair twines between her fingers nervously, unaware of the movement. "You can stay as long as you are quiet. Otherwise Mother will find you and she won't let you stay."

Flynn's laugh is short and fast. It causes him to smile. "I'm an expert at avoiding mothers. She won't even know I'm here."

Rapunzel beams.

"You know," he says leaning closer as if sharing a secret with her, "I've never been in a tower before. They're not really common in my neck of the woods. Care to give a tour, Blondie?"

Of course! Rapunzel shows Flynn the most interesting parts of the tower. The kitchen cabinets have two sets of plates, cups, spoons, and forks. One for Rapunzel, and one for Mother. And when she turns the water pump ever so slightly to the left, it makes a funny squeak.

Flynn listens. He does not share her smile, but remarks how fascinating he finds each object. She continues.

Rapunzel shows him Mother's red chair and the murals that cover every inch of the walls she can reach. These he looks at with interest, complimenting her work.

"Wow, Blondie, you sure like to paint."

She nods eagerly in agreement. Painting is so fun. Rapunzel is glad he is so interested in her art.

She points out the window overlooking Mother's garden. It is her favorite window with a better view than the one Flynn climbed through. She loves to watch Mother work and imagines the grass must feel like a soft green blanket beneath her feet.

Flynn looks concerned. "You don't know what grass feels like?"

Rapunzel cheeks redden in shame. Is she supposed to know how grass feels? Her eyes drift from him to the stone floor below as her excitement fades.

"Outside is a dangerous place." Rapunzel mumbles. "Mother says out there bad people would cut my hair. The tower is safe." Mother has said it hundreds times and would say it hundreds again. Rapunzel does not know the feeling of grass, but it is a small price to pay for her safety.

Flynn nods and steps closer to put his hand on her shoulder. The warmth surprises her. His hand does not feel heavy of tight as it did on her wrist when he stopped her frying pan from hitting him in the face. She likes the comfort his touch brings and leans into it.

"Tell you what, Blondie. Next time I see you, I'll bring back some grass, pulled straight from the ground just for you."

"Really?"

"Really. It's the least I can do."

Her smile stretches wide across her face with the possibility of reaching her dream. Flynn would bring her real grass to touch. Flynn smiles too, but his doesn't reach the edges of his mouth and disappears quickly. She hopes he is telling the truth. To bring back his smile Rapunzel leads him upstairs to show him more murals on the walls.

He listens as she shows him the curtains that hang from her bed and talks about the quilt she proudly made. Next to her bed is a shelf that holds three books. Three, she excitedly explains as he quickly flips through the pictures. The chest at the foot of her bed holds the rest of her crafts, embroidery, knitting, all her needles and yarns. Flynn watches and nods in interest.

"That's a lot of good stuff in here. You got a TV?"

Rapunzel shakes her head slowly.

"Radio? Ipod?"

Her face scrunches in confusion.

"Computer, lamp, light bulbs, electricity?"

These things are not familiar to her. She tries to store them in her memory for later, but remembering the foreign names feels like water running through the fingers of her cupped palm. Maybe Mother has heard of them before? She will have to ask.

Rapunzel shakes her head one last time as the heat of shame reddens in her cheeks again. Flynn, kind and interesting Flynn seems to think she should have these items. Rapunzel doesn't even know what an electricity is.

Flynn steps backward against the bed before Rapunzel can start to apologize. Mother's words ring in Rapunzel's ears. She is right; Rapunzel is too naïve to live anywhere but the safety of her tower. She knows many skills, how to bake fruit pies and sew dresses. She can sing, dance, and glide effortlessly through the rafters of her tower. And though she can name any herb by scent, those skills are not enough. Rapunzel should know more.

The bed catches the back of his knees until Flynn sits down, unaware of the movement.

"You're not kidding." Disappointment saddens in his voice. It hurts Rapunzel as if a sharp knife had been sliced across her palm. More than anything, Rapunzel does not want to disappoint Flynn.

"What do you watch?" he asks.

Her hands wring a lock of her hair out of habit, unsure if the answer is acceptable. "Mother's garden, the stars."

"You're not kidding." he repeats breathlessly.

To her surprise, Flynn smiles instead of frowning. His smile is soft, visible. It does not show his teeth, but his lips quirk upward unmistakably. Rapunzel relaxes a little. He is no longer disappointed in Rapunzel. In fact, Flynn seems excited. Maybe he too likes watching the stars glitter at night.

"Okay. We're gonna fix that. Come here." He pulls something small from his pocket. "This is your lucky day. Have you ever seen a cartoon?"

Rapunzel thinks hard as she watches him fiddle with the object in his hands. She shakes her head, golden hair flowing gently as he pats the bed for her to sit beside him. Eagerly, Rapunzel joins him.

Pictures move underneath his fingers. Rapunzel gaps and leans closer. She has never seen anything so interesting. Her eyes widen in curiosity as he passes the moving pictures into her hands. The weight of the pictures surprises her as she gently inspects them.

"If your going to start somewhere, it's going to be with the classics." Flynn announces.

Rapunzel cannot take her eyes away as the animals chase each other. Flynn touches the moving pictures, and suddenly there is sound. Thumps and whacks just like when Rapunzel drops her pans on the red stone floor. Music too that she has never heard before plays faster than any of the notes she strummed on her guitar.

All of a sudden, it ends. The pictures stop moving.

Flynn smiles as he watches Rapunzel eagerly wait for more. "Pretty good, huh? It's not the best animation out there, but it's a classic. We'll work you up to the more exciting stuff."

Flynn presses on the picture and another starts, looking similar, but moving entirely different. Captivated, Rapunzel watches.

They shift into a more comfortable position lying down on Rapunzel's massive bed. Rapunzel lays on her belly, hands propped beneath her chin while her ankles cross in the air. Flynn lazily rests his head against his arm, interested, but nowhere near as attentive as Rapunzel.

When she looks over minutes later, Flynn is asleep.

The dark hair on his head falls over his face, obscuring his warm eyes. He looks relaxed. Rapunzel starts to smile at the image, but her own mouth stretches into a wide yawn as sleepiness tugs heavily at her eyelids.

Pascal, tired also, climbs slowly down her arm and curls up beneath her chin as she lays her head down to rest. Though she wants to see the pictures, her eyes drift close until opening them again becomes too much effort. She can still hear the music and listens contently until she too is lulled to sleep.


End file.
